All I've Got
by LeesaCrakon
Summary: "He's all I've got. I don't know what I'd do without him." The Delancey brothers never asked for help from anyone. Rated T for violence, medical scenes, hinted rape, and physical abuse.
1. Attacked

Oscar Delancey walked through the dimly lit streets of Manhattan, whistling softly as his older brother Morris stuck close beside him, his eyes darting around nervously as he clutched his brass knuckles tightly. The two brothers had just finished an average day of selling newspapers and beating up other newsies, and were anxious to get back home. Well, The World wasn't really a home, but it was the closest things the two brothers had to one.

"Morris, quit your worryin'! We'll be back at The World soon enough," Oscar chastised the older Delancey, rolling his eyes when Morris jumped at a small sound that had come from the alleyway right next to them. Morris swallowed nervously before clinging closer to his brother, even going as far as to grab his shirt sleeve.

"Easy for you to say! You ain't got jumped out here yet, and I ain't gonna let it happen!" Morris hissed, and Oscar had to bite back his anger and resist the urge to yell at his older brother. Morris was only a year older than Oscar, but he still acted like Oscar was a little kid.

"I'd be fine if I was jumped! You's taught me everything there is to know 'bout fightin'!" Oscar said, nudging his brother in the side and grinning when Morris' face turned a bright shade of red. He loved poking at his brother's pride, whether in a good way or a bad one, because both reactions were always priceless.

"How much did Wiesel pay ya today? Beat down any newsies in particular?" Morris quickly asked, knowing his face probably resembled a cherry and wanting to change the subject. Oscar's smile faded at the mention of the newsies and he looked down at his feet, scuffing at the pavement with one of his worn out shoes. Morris stared at his younger brother in concern, but decided not to say anything when Oscar forced his signature smirk back on his face and continued walking.

"I took down that Specs kid, and the new guy. What's his name... Davey! That's it," Oscar replied with a chuckle. "Wiesel gave me two bucks a piece. Not much, but we's could get some dinna tonight with it," Oscar said, looking up slightly at his companion with pride. Morris smiled and ruffled the slightly younger boys hair, letting out a laugh when Oscar growled in protest and tried to neaten his hair again. He slung an arm around Oscar's shoulders affectionately.

"You know, why don't I buy dinna tonight? We can-" Morris cut off short and whirled around to face the dark streets behind them, keeping a wary hand on Oscar's shoulder. He ignored the younger's concerned calls of his name and observed the streets. All remained quiet, but Morris saw a flicker of movement under one of the farther lamp posts. His breath caught in his throat as he remembered what he and Oscar called **it.** He gripped his brother's shoulder tighter.

"We need to go. _Now,"_ Morris commanded, and Oscar didn't hesitate. The two boys broke out into a sprint, running as fast as they could away from whatever had made a move in the dark. Morris bit back a scream as he heard heavy, pounding footsteps and several voices shouting. He would not let **it** happen again, not to his brother! Morris didn't care what happened to him, as long as Oscar was safe! So that's why Morris stopped in the middle of the streets and turned, his face paling in horror as he saw three tall, obviously adult figures advancing towards him.

"Morris, what the hell are you doin'?!" Oscar screamed behind him. "RUN, OSCAR!" Morris merely yelled in reply, getting into a fighting stance, making his best attempt at looking threatening. It would have worked on another boy. Heck, it usually worked on adults! But these three ragged, hunched, leering men were hardened by the streets, unaffected at the meek pretenses of a teenage boy.

Before Morris could tell what was going on, one of the three men pounced, tackling him to the ground and stabbing at him with a wicked knife. Morris screamed in agony as the blade sunk deep into the soft flesh of his stomach, and he tried to shove the man off of him, kicking and punching, even using his brass knuckle for all that it was worth. The man on top of him was unfazed, and stabbed again, and again, and again. The other two watched, sometimes even laughed when Morris let out a particularly horrible scream, and would kick him harshly when he became too much trouble.

Morris was gasping, his eyes blown wide and filled with tears. The pain in his chest and stomach was so intense he couldn't scream, he couldn't breath, and he could only lay limply as his attackers had their way with him. They tore through his clothes, finding anything of value that he had before leaving Morris on the streets to bleed out and die. Morris closed his eyes, letting the tears roll down his cheeks for the first time in years. At least **it** wasn't happening again. At least Oscar was safe... Morris coughed violently and blood bubbled up out of his mouth and down his chin, leaving a thick, red trail from his mouth to his shirt collar. He faintly heard a bloodcurdling scream and he gasped, turning as best as he could to face the direction his brother had gone.

"O...scar..." Morris croaked weakly, more hot tears spilling onto the bloodstained pavement around him. He could see his brother running towards him, his already pale face even more drained of color than usual and an expression of pure horror on his face. Morris moaned in pain when Oscar knelt by his side and tried to pull his head into his lap, his entire body shaking with fear.

"Oh God... Oh God, what do I do?!" Oscar sobbed, his pants damp with his older brother's blood. Morris tried his best to smile up at the younger Delancey, gripping one of his hands tightly in his own. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled grunt. Oscar was crying, crying so hard that his whole body was shaking. The tears dripped down on the pavement, on Morris' face, and on the pavement. Oscar knew what he had to do. It was something he and his brother had sworn to never do, but it was the only way that Morris would live. Oscar gently set Morris' head back down before getting up and dragging him over to the side of a building, propping him up as best as he could.

"I-I'm gonna go get help, okay Morris? A docta or somethin'... I'll be back. I ain't leavin' you here," Oscar choked out. Morris looked up at him and nodded weakly, his hand going up to press against his wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow. Oscar held back a sob and sprinted off into the night, praying for the first time in his short life that his brother would be okay.


	2. Help

Jack had just finished putting a few of the younger newsies to bed when Crutchie hobbled into the cramped lodging room, his face as white as a sheet and completely void of all emotion. Glancing around to see that all of the kids were asleep, Crutchie beckoned for his best friend to follow him before going back out of the room. Jack's brow furrowed in confusion but he got to his feet anyways, following the crippled newsie out of the room. Specs, Race, Romeo, and Crutchie all greeted him with solemn faces, confusing him even more.

"What's goin' on, fellas? Did I miss somethin'?" Jack asked nervously, not surprised when none of the boys laughed. "It's the Delancey brothers. Oscar's here, and he wants to see you," Crutchie grumbled, making the other boys shift on their feet in discomfort. Jack's jaw clenched at the mention of every newsies' sworn enemy, and he folded his arms across his chest in slight defiance.

"What does he want?" Crutchie shrugged. "Dunno. But he don't look so good. He looks like he's been cryin' or somethin', and there's blood all over 'im," Crutchie said, a slight flicker of concern in his usually blithe eyes. Jack's eyes widened and he shoved past Crutchie, making his way to the entrance of the lodging house, knowing that the boys never would have let Oscar in if their lives depended on it. He hesitated slightly before pushing the doors open, gasping at the sight before him.

Oscar Delancey stood on the steps of the lodging house, his face pale and his eyes wide with terror. His hands hung limp at his sides, stained so red with blood they didn't even look like hands anymore. There was blood on his pants and shirt too, staining the garments with deep crimson splotches. He was breathing hard, like he had run a long way, his usually sleek black hair was wild and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and the light of the lamp posts made the tear tracks on his face glisten.

"J-Jack," Oscar croaked, stumbling forward a few steps before falling to his knees. He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking as he started to sob. "P-Please help! It's Morris! He's... It's... Oh God, please!" Oscar wailed, grabbing at his hair and bending forward so that Jack couldn't see his face. Shocked, the older teen grabbed Oscar by the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, wrinkling his nose slightly in disgust at the thought of aiding the enemy. But, he'd never seen Oscar like this. Ever.

"Slow down, okay? Just tell me nice 'n easy what's goin' on," Jack said calmly, trying to ease the shaking teen's anxiety. Oscar hiccuped a few more times before rambling off an explanation, telling Jack how Morris had gotten jumped. "We was comin' home from work, goin' to find a place to eat or somethin', and Morris and I was just talkin' about anything that came to our heads. Morris and I is real close, see. Anyways, everything was goin' fine until... u-until Morris noticed we was being followed. We started runnin' but he stopped to fight 'em off. I tried to help, I wanted to, but he told me to run. And I did, like a coward. I heard him screamin', and I could hear the knife goin' into him over and over again. It was so bad... There was blood all over the place! J-Jack, please help! He'll... He'll _die_!" When Oscar was finished he'd started sobbing again, burying his head in his hands.

 _Explains the blood. And maybe the crying,_ Jack thought, pulling Oscar gently into the lodging house. The other teen followed obediently, not saying a word. He only let out a few whimpers and sniffles on occasion.

"Specs, Race, Crutchie, get over here!" Jack called, pushing Oscar into a chair and sitting in the one next to him. Oscar was staring blankly off into space, murmuring softly under his breath and wringing his hands, tears still rolling down his cheeks. The three teens entered the room and they immediately bristled at the sight of the Delancey, snarls twisting their features. Specs even went so far as to stand in front of Crutchie and Racetrack protectively, his eyes narrowed.

"Ah, good! Specs, I need ya to go get a doctor. Remember, he lives two doors down from us? And be quick about it! It's an emergency!" Specs blinked in surprise at his leader's command, but gave a curt nod and raced past them out the open door behind them.

"Race, you's gonna come with me. Oscar and I'll need help carryin' Morris." Race pulled the the unlit cigar from his mouth, grumbling complaints and curses under his breath as he shoved it into his pocket.

"Crutchie?" Jack resisted the urge to smile as his best friend stood at attention when his name was called, looking all business. "You'll be in charge while I'm gone. Watch over the young ones. Got it?" Crutchie grinned and waved his hand in a sort-of newsie salute before turning to go back into the lodging room with the other newsies.

"Oscar, show us where Morris is," Jack said, turning back to the boy in the chair. Oscar looked up at Jack with wide, fearful eyes before bolting to his feet and sprinting out the door. Race and Jack ran as fast as they could to keep up with Oscar, not wanting to lose him in the inky darkness of the night. It had started to rain, and all three boys were drenched within seconds. Jack followed Oscar blindly as they entered a part of the city even he didn't know, squinting to keep the pesky water out of his eyes.

"Morris!" Oscar was calling, "Morris, where are ya?!" Jack watched with slight pity as Oscar came to a halt, looking around wildly in search of his brother. Oscar was breathing heavily, both from the run and from panic. He could've sworn this was where he left Morris! Looking at the ground confirmed this; the rain still hadn't washed away all of the blood on the pavement. They were in the right place. Oscar was starting to get frantic, twitching as he tried to decide which way to go. He couldn't lose Morris, not like this!

"MORRIS!" Oscar screamed to the heavens, his hands clenched at his sides. He failed. He failed to keep the one person he cared about safe. Oscar's shoulders started to shake and he gritted his teeth, fighting back the urge to scream again. He felt a hand grasp his shoulder and he hung hung his head in shame and grief. Jack gripped Oscar's shoulder tightly and was about to say something, anything, when the three heard a small come come from the alleyway beside them.

"I'm right here, Oscar..." a voice said softly. Oscar rushed into the alleyway and immediately spotted his brother curled up on his side next to the wall. Oscar fell to his knees and scooped Morris into his arms. The bleeding in his stomach and chest had stopped or at least slowed, but Morris face was paler than death, and Oscar could tell he was trying as hard as he could to stay conscious. Oscar blinked back tears and buried his face in his brother's mussed, damp, brown hair, glancing at the newsies before softly murmuring to his brother that everything was going to be okay. They were going to get him help, and he'd be okay. Jack and Race were shocked at the sensitivity displayed before them, but Jack quickly came to his senses and knelt at Morris' side.

"Morris, this is goin' to hurt, but we gotta move ya. Okay?" Jack said softly. Morris started to tear up in anticipation of the pain and managed to nod slightly, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to take slow, even breaths. Oscar let go of Morris and Race took his place. Race and Jack slid their arms under Morris' legs and grabbed each others' wrists. Morris slung his arms around both of their shoulders, wincing slightly. They put their arms behind his back and slowly, gently lifted him off of the ground. Morris let out a strangled gasp and his eyes shot wide open, filled with pain. Oscar's face paled and he looked away, as if he were about to vomit. Jack and Race moved as quickly as they could, trying their best not to jostle Morris as they made their way back to the lodging house.


	3. Doctor, Doctor

Oscar watched as Jack and Race gently rested Morris on one of the empty bunks, his stomach twisting as Morris let out a small whimper of pain. When the two newsies backed away he quickly rushed to his brother's side, grabbing his hand and watching him closely, as if to see if he was still breathing or not. Morris stirred weakly and Oscar squeezed his hand gently, watching as his older brother relaxed slightly. Specs came running in minutes later, followed by a tall old man, still dressed in his night clothes and carrying a brown leather case.

"I got Dr. Skelton! How is-" Specs stopped short when as his eyes fell on Morris' pale, seemingly tiny figure lying stretched out on the bed. He glanced up and down, his eyes resting on the punctured portion of the shirt. Saying nothing, he gestured to Morris for the doctor to see. Dr. Skelton hummed before setting his case on the small wooden shelf attached loosely to the drab walls. He opened the case and Oscar stomach churned. There were all sort of surgical tools. Knives, scissors, saws (those made all of the room's occupants shudder), some needles, thread, and, in a second compartment, different types of medicines.

"I suggest you all leave this isn't going to be a pleasant business," Dr. Skelton said firmly. Morris' grip tightened on his brother's hand and Oscar could tell he was afraid, even though he didn't show it. "Please, sir, can I stay? He's my brotha, see, and I don't want him to get scared or nothin'," Oscar said quickly, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging. Dr. Skelton, set firmly in his ways, shook his head and gestured to the door.

"This boy is on the brink of death! If I want to get anything done or help him at all, I can't have distractions! Now please, leave!" Dr. Skelton said with a sigh, although there was a hint of regret in his tone. Morris looked up at Oscar fearfully, but forced a smile on his face like he usually did when his younger brother was around, and nodded. Oscar's brow furrowed and he gave Morris' hand one last squeeze before hesitantly letting go. As the door closed behind them, Oscar saw the doctor give Morris a wooden spoon to bite down on before selecting a piece of cloth and some medicine. Oscar collapsed against the wall, groaning softly and sliding down to the floor. Jack, Crutchie, Race, and Specs hovered around him hesitantly, not really knowing what to do.

"I can't lose him," Oscar suddenly rasped, catching all of the boys' attention. "You won't. I mean, even if he dies, you'll neva really-" Jack started.

"No, ya don't understand! I _can't. Lose. Him,"_ Oscar said, his tone almost menacing. His voice was pained, matching the mood of his eyes. Specs' face softened in slight understanding at he sat down next to Oscar, which was quite the sight, considering it had been just hours before that Oscar had taken him down for a couple of dollars. Tears started to gather in Oscar eyes and he quickly brushed them away, shaking his head slowly. They didn't understand, even if they thought they didn't. For some odd reason, Oscar wanted to make the newsies understand; they'd all been enemies for so long that they never realized how much the Delancey brothers were hiding...

"The two of us... It's just been us eva since our ma died. Pa was a great man, a great fatha, but when ma died he just broke. He was beatin' us, and neglectin' us on betta days. Morris always took the worst of the beatings. He said he didn't want me ta hurt," Oscar started in a low voice, his lip already beginning to quiver. The other four teenagers were shocked, but stayed silent to allow Oscar to continue. Oscar sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Pa was always drunk when he came home. He was always hurtin' us. And then when he was sober again, he'd break down cryin' and tell us he was so sorry and that he'd neva hurt us again. It was all lies. We knew it, too, but we was too stupid to try 'n get away. One day Pa beat Morris so bad he just lay there... he couldn't get up or nothin'... he was hurtin' so much he couldn't move." Oscar was starting to choke up, stumbling over his words and whimpering or taking a shuddery breath. Specs face paled; the other newsies knew why. Most of them could relate to a story like Oscar's.

"So we ran. We ran as far away from that small little town as we could. We was headin' toward New York City to make our lives betta, and nothin' was gonna stop us. We was seven and eight at the time, real young, but we did it. We got here, and Wiesel found us." Oscar stopped and his eyes closed, his face twisting as if he had just smelled something nasty. "We've been workin' for him eva since, and we's always hated it." Jack's expression was solemn, Crutchie looked like he was going to throw up, Race's cigar had fallen out of his mouth because it was open so wide in shock, and Specs had that same sympathetic, understanding look in his eyes that he had in the beginning.

"I know what you're going through. Somewhat," Specs murmured. Oscar's eyes widened and he leaped to his feet, actually beginning to tremble with rage as his eyes ran over the four newsies. They rested on Specs and his lips curled up into a snarl. "You don't understand nothin'! You have somethin' ta call yours, all of you do! Even if it's somethin' simple, like the bond you all have or small little trinkets. You even gots pictures, some of ya, and do y'know what I've got?!" Specs shook his head quickly, starting to tremble with fear. Oscar was tearing up again, all anger gone, and he hung his head.

"Morris." Specs gave Oscar a confused look and he smiled dryly. "You all have somethin' to calls yours, somethin' to put your name to. All I've got is Morris," Oscar said softly. Realization dawned on each of their faces and Specs started to say something, an apology maybe, but Oscar stopped him with the sad look in his eyes. As tears began to swell and slowly trickle down, Oscar said, "He's all I've got. I don't know what I'd do without him."


	4. Stitches

_"_ Take a deep breath, nice and easy," Dr. Skelton soothed as he threaded the needle. Morris tried to hide how much he was trembling, closing his eyes and trying to take the doctor's advice and take deep breaths. Dr. Skelton had, unfortunately, no pain killers for when he stitched Morris up, or for when he began to clean the wound. Morris whimpered softly as the doctor picked up a damp cloth and turned to him, a regretful look on his face.

"This is going to hurt, son, but I need to do it. If the wound gets infected after I stitch it, there's a high chance you won't survive. Remember, if it hurts too much, bite down on this," Dr. Skelton said, and he picked up a wooden spoon from the table and gently put it in Morris' mouth. Morris nodded and braced himself for the doctor's treatments. He was surprised to find that as the doctor cleaned his stab wounds, it only stung a little, and didn't really hurt. When Dr. Skelton finished, he placed the bloody cloth back in its bowl. Now came the real pain.

Morris' blood ran cold as Dr. Skelton picked the needle back up and studied each wound individually; there were four of them all together, all of them deep, but thankfully not piercing any vital organs (according to the doctor, anyways). The dried blood that had coated his stomach was mostly cleaned off from the doctor's earlier treatment. Morris closed his eyes as the doctor bent down over the bunk, needle poised.

* * *

A muffled scream pierced the air and Oscar nearly jumped out of his skin, his head snapping over to look at the door. His brother lay on the other side, in pain, screaming, _dying..._ Oscar shot to his feet and stormed towards the door, only to feel two strong arms wrap around his waist and drag him back.

"Let me go! I want ta see him! He needs me!" Oscar shouted, kicking at the newsies holding him tightly like a five year old having a tantrum. Racetrack grunted in slight pain as Oscar landed a particularly hard jab to his ribs, but he forced Oscar back into his seat and looked him firmly in the eye. Oscar glared back and the two teens had a silent face off, neither of their gazes wavering. Jack, Crutchie, and Specs watched with discomfort while the other newsies turned over in their bunks, either trying to fall back asleep or ignore what was going on.

"I still hate ya. Y'know that, right?" Race grumbled, and Oscar's mouth twitched slightly in a smile. "Morris is gonna be fine. He's hurtin', but that's normal. He'll be fine," Race found himself murmuring, and Oscar's smile slowly faded. "You don't know that, Race. Nobody knows that," Jack muttered behind them. Race turned to glare at Jack for a moment before turning back to Oscar.

"Ignore 'im, he's bein' dumb," Race said, hoping he could make Oscar smile again. But the stubborn, surprisingly sensitive Delancey brother continued his silent, mental battle that was going on his head. "Oh, come on, don't turn into a girl on me, Delancey," Race said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Oscar smiled slightly again and Race mentally patted himself on the back. So far, his distractions were working. Not for long, though, because another muffled scream leaked its way into the room. Oscar tensed and stared at the door again, debating on whether or not he should make a run for it.

"Hey, look at me, Oscar. Just focus on me, a'ight?" Race said firmly, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and making him face him. The other teen nodded and looked into his eyes fearfully, his gaze still twitching from Race's face to the door. For the first time in a while, Race was at a loss for words. His self-appointed job among the newsies was to be the 'snarky older brother'. He used his gift of sarcasm to cheer up his brothers, but never his enemies. He had no idea what to do.

"Is 'e really goin' to be alright?" Oscar asked weakly, his eyes searching Race for an answer. Race blinked, taken aback at the question, but he smiled. "Yeah! Yeah, he's gonna be fine! I bet it'll be just a day before the two of you's is back in The World givin' us all a hard time," Race replied, and Oscar smiled again. Racetrack, feeling very accomplished, punched Oscar playfully and plopped down onto the bunk closest to him, giving him the biggest smile he could muster.

"Morris is gonna be good as new before you know it, Oscar. Just you watch."


	5. Impatience

Morris had passed out about a minute into the stitching because of the pain. When he woke up, he was still lying on the bunk in the lodging house, looking up at the low ceiling about him. Dr. Skelton was putting some bandages over his stab wounds, his eyes tired and his shoulders slumped. Morris could barely move; the pain in his midsection was so terrible he thought he'd die just from that.

"You're awake... good," Dr. Skelton said with a dry smile. Morris didn't reply, instead glancing over to the table beside him. The wooden spoon he'd used earlier had long, deep grooves from him biting it. Morris stared at it in a sort of horrified awe. Had he even bitten it when he was unconscious? Grateful that he hadn't been awake to feel the pain, Morris sighed gently and turned his head.

"Your brother has been anxious to see you. The other boys were just barely able to keep him out of here. Do you want to rest, or would you prefer I let him see you?" Dr. Skelton said. Morris, suddenly filled with life after the mention of Oscar, nodded vigorously, accidentally making him jerk slightly. Morris muffled a groan as his hand flew to his aching stomach. Dr. Skelton smiled a little, his faint grey eyes filled with compassion behind his half moon glasses. He patted Morris' hand.

"I'll go get him. We'll just be a moment," he said reassuringly, and Morris relaxed as best as he could. As the Doctor left, Morris tried to sit up as best as he could, ignoring the shrieking pain that shot through him. He gritted his teeth and propped himself against the back of the bunk, exhaling shakily when he was finally in place. Morris waited, plucking at the wool blanket covering his legs impatiently. Any eighteen year old would be impatient when waiting for something, and Morris' situation only made his anxiety increase. When Dr. Skelton failed to return after what seemed like an eternity, Morris started to worry.

He stared at the closed door severing him and Oscar with contempt, gripping at the sheets beneath him and twisting them around his fists. He'd never been separated from his little brother for so long, unless Mr. Wiesel was punishing one of them. Morris' hands were starting to tremble and he resisted the urge to leap off the bed and run to the door, knowing he wouldn't get far before collapsing ripping his stitches open. So, he sat, waiting anxiously.

"Morris?" The door opened slightly and Oscar's timid call of his name caught Morris' attention instantly. His head snapped up and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, watching the door. Oscar opened it the rest of the way, revealing Jack and Race on either side of him and Oscar staring at him with wide eyes. After a moment of silence and staring, Morris smiled at his younger brother and held his arms out to him.

"Well? Are you goin' to just stand there, or are you gonna get ova here?" Morris said, and his smiled widened when Oscar beamed at him. Moments later, Morris found two strung arms flung around him, passionate but gentle, a face buried in the crook of his neck, and the sounds of sniffles in his ear. Morris returned his brother's cautious embrace, tugging at him slightly until he sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Oscar found himself blinking rapidly in an effort to stop himself from breaking down, and a huge grin was still plastered on his face.

"Don't eva, _eva_ scare me like that again, y'hear?" Oscar mumbled into his brother's neck, smiling a little when Morris sighed and placed a hand on his back and rested his head on top of his. "Yeah, I hear ya. But hey, at least it was different this time, right? I didn't... I didn't get _touched_ or nothin', at least..." Morris replied softly. Oscar's smile faded, but he nodded slightly and hugged his brother tighter, careful not to squeeze too tight.

"I'm so glad you's is okay. I-I... I ain't ready to be alone yet," Oscar admitted. Morris stiffened slightly and the hand he placed on Oscar's back clutched at his shirt slightly.

"Good, 'cause I ain't ready to leave yet."

The Delancey brothers had forgotten about the two other teens standing in the doorway, watching as the two of them hugged and whispered back and forth to each other. They didn't know that they'd hurt every word, and it upset them a lot more than it should have, considering who they were and what they'd done to the newsies. Jack and Race would never admit it, but as they watched Morris and Oscar, they both felt remorse unfurling in their chests. Jack pulled Race back into the other room, closing the door behind them quietly so the brothers could have their moment.

"What d'you think Morris meant by touched?" Race muttered uneasily almost as soon as the door closed. Jack glared at his friend in exasperation. "Oh, come on, Race. You ain't that stupid, are ya?" Jack snapped, shaking his head sighing. Race looked down at the ground and took off his cap, twisting it in his hands guiltily.

"What should we do? I mean, we gotta do somethin'. If what Oscar was sayin' earlier is true, and Morris has gone through somethin' like this like we heard him say, we can't just leave 'em be when Morris gets betta. Y'know what I mean?" Race continued, his cap now resembling a washing cloth. Jack looked up at his friend in consideration of his words, seeming to be speechless.

"I... I dunno. But you's right. We gotta do somethin." Race nodded before let out a shaky laugh, plopping his cap back on his head. "I neva thought this day would come. We's gonna help the Delanceys," Race sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Jack's lips quirked up slightly, though there was no real humor in his smile. This was too serious to joke about.


	6. Rare Moments

Morris woke up, wining slightly in pain and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He smiled softly as his eyes fell on Oscar, who had curled up by his side in the night and fallen asleep. His face was buried in Morris' shoulder, but the older Delancey could still hear his faint snores. Morris laid back, moving as little as possible so he didn't wake up his brother. He rested his head on Oscar's and sighed softly, massaging his hair gently with his left hand.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty." Morris jumped slightly and quickly removed his hand from his brother's hair, hoping that whoever had spoken hadn't seen the rare affectionate display. He looked up to see Specs smiling at him in amusement, his head tilted slightly as he observed. Morris blushed and sat up carefully, pressing a hand to his stomach and trying not to jostle Oscar.

"Mornin'. How early is it?" Morris asked, yawning. "It's about one in the afternoon. How long has it been since you and Oscar got a decent amount of sleep?" Specs replied, and Morris tried to ignore the concern that heavily laced the other boy's voice. Instead, he was panicked. Their Uncle would kill them when he found out they hadn't been to work that day! Morris tried to get up and gasped as he was hit by a wave of pain.

"Whoa, settle down! You aren't going anywhere!" Specs said, jumping to his feet and gently pushing Morris back onto the bed. Morris glared up at Specs, but he wrapped a protective arm around Oscar settled back down. Specs pulled up a stool next to the bed and sat down, giving his sworn enemy the nicest smile he could muster. Both boys sat in silence, Specs not knowing what to say and Morris not wanting to answer his question from before. Specs' gaze flickered to Oscar and his eyes softened.

"You care about him a lot, don't you?" Specs asked. Morris hesitated before nodding, looking down at Oscar's sleeping face and sighing. "We's been through a lot togetha. I can count on 'im, and he can count on me. Don' know if he loves me or anythin', but he cares. That's good enough fa me," Morris said. Specs shook his head, noting how Morris' eyes flickered briefly with sadness.

"No it's not. You want him to love you. And don't worry, he does," Specs said in a matter-of-fact tone. Morris blinked and gazed at Specs questioningly, but he didn't say anything. "He was scared half to death last night, you should have seen him. He was a sobbing mess," Specs said with a humorless chuckle. Morris looked down at his younger brother in surprise.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad. He explained about your ma and pa. I tried to tell him I knew what you two were going through, but he wouldn't hear it. I guess... in the end, he had a point. He said that you're the only thing he's got in the world, and I have the newsies, other friends, a roof over my head..." Specs voice trailed off and he looked to Morris to see if he was saying anything out of turn, but the other newsie looked at him with slight interest and- dare he say it -grief.

"He really said all that?" Morris whispered. Specs nodded and smiled, patting Morris on the shoulder. "You're really lucky, Morris. Oscar loves you a lot, even if he doesn't ever say it. He looks up to you," Specs said confidently. Morris' grip on his brother tightened subconsciously and he felt his eyes starting to sting. Did Oscar really feel that way? He sure had a funny way of showing it. Fighting with him, taking his anger out on him, forcing him to stay with Weisel during the strike...

Morris would do anything for Oscar, but he never realized it was the other way around too. He found himself blinking to keep the tears from falling. He did agree that after **it** happened, the two of them became closer. Morris supposed it made a bit of sense. Morris sniffed and nuzzled into Oscar's hair, sighing softly. The younger smiled a bit in his sleep and buried his face deeper in Morris' shoulder, making the other smile. Specs shifted slightly, wanting to say something but reluctant to interrupt the moment between the brothers.

"Uh... The boys'll be back soon for lunch. If you two want, you can join us," Specs offered with an awkward smile. Morris was about to shake his head when his stomach grumbled loudly, making both him and Specs laugh a little. "Yeah... Yeah, let me just wake 'im up, alright?" Morris said, and Specs left without another word. Morris looked down at Oscar and shook his shoulder lightly.

"Oscar. Oscar, get up you lazy bum," Morris whispered into his brother's ear. Oscar whined and swatted at Morris' face, narrowly missing. Morris winced as he twisted over onto his side and smirked at Oscar. "Get up or I'll tickle ya." Oscar's eyes shot open and he sat up so fast he fell off the bed. Morris laughed, clutching his stomach and doubling over with laughter as Oscar glared up at him from the floor, rubbing his forehead where he'd hit it on the edge of the bunk.

"It ain't funny, Mors!" Oscar grumbled, but his faint smile and the use of an old nickname showed he wasn't really all that ticked off. Morris grinned and went to get out of bed, but Oscar gasped and held him down. "You ain't goin' anywhere, pal. You's stayin' right here," Oscar said firmly, as if _he_ was the older brother and Morris was a little kid. Morris huffed and folded his arms across his chest.

"You's is just as bad as that Specs kid," Morris complained, and Oscar flicked his forehead playfully. "Don't want'cha dyin', that's all. I'll bring you somethin', okay?" Oscar said, giving Morris one of his rare affectionate smiles before turning to the door. A lump formed in Morris' throat and he sat up, trying to find his words.

"H-Hey, Oscar?" Oscar blinked and turned at the sound of his brother's voice. Morris shifted awkwardly on the bed, cleared his throat, and looked up at his younger brother shyly.

"You know I love ya, right? Right, Oscar?" Morris muttered, blushing darkly at the odd confession. Oscar's mouth fell open in surprise, but he quickly smiled and nodded. His brother was such a dork. "Course I do. I love you too," Oscar replied. Morris' head snapped up and he beamed at the younger Delancey. Oscar returned his gleeful smile before waving slightly and leaving the room to grab a bite.


	7. Coward

Oscar followed the newsies as they walked into Tibby's, a small and cozy little restaurant that he often saw them hanging around in. They greeted the owner happily and picked their tables, sitting close together and waiting for their menus. Oscar stood in a corner, watching awkwardly as he tried to decide where to sit. He decided on a small, empty table far away from the newsies. He hid his face behind his hat, not wanting the owner or any of the workers to see who he was. His reputation wasn't exactly a positive one with them.

"Oscar, come sit with us!" Specs called, standing up and waving at the isolated teen. Oscar's head snapped up and he looked at the owner with wide eyes. He hadn't even flinched at the mention of the Delancey brother's name, and had continued cleaning the counter like he had when the newsies first arrived. Oscar hesitated slightly before nodding and joining Specs, Race, Jack, Crutchie, and Romeo at their table. He sat in the empty seat next to Race, shifting uncomfortably and feeling extremely out of place.

"How is Morris doin', Oscar?" Romeo suddenly asked, turning from where he had been talking to Crutchie and looking at Oscar with curiosity. All conversation at the table seemed to quiet down and Oscar ducked his head. "He's doin' betta, don't know how long it'll be 'til he's good as new, though," Oscar muttered. Romeo smiled in understanding, patting Oscar on the shoulder and turning back to Crutchie. The latter kept stealing glances at Oscar, glaring at him and ever shivering slightly in fear a few times. Oscar understood why, of course. Oscar and Morris were the ones that got Crutchie stuck in the Refuge. "Forgive and forget" was easier said than done.

"You okay? Ya don' look so good," Jack commented, noting Oscar's pale face and clenched fists. Oscar blinked and sighed, flexing his hands slightly and rubbing his temple in both exhaustion and annoyance. "I's fine. Ya don't need to-" Oscar stopped short, going rigid as he spotted three very familiar looking men entering the small restaurant. His breath caught in his throat as they sat at the table right next to theirs, chatting casually as if the events that took place two days ago never happened.

"Oscar? Oscar, what's wrong?" It was Specs this time, and he looked worried. Oscar shot to his feet as one of the three men, the one that had stabbed his brother, turned to face him. He grinned at him with wide lips and rotting, yellow teeth. A mop of scraggly brown hair sat on top of his head as if it was just barely staying on. Race had grabbed Oscar's wrist and was talking to him, but Oscar didn't hear anything. He just stared at his brother's attacker, and the attacker stared right back at Oscar.

"T-That's him," Oscar managed to squeak out. Race immediately shut up and followed Oscar's gaze, his eyes narrowing as they fell on the three men. "I'd know dem boys anywhere. They's from Brooklyn. A couple a lowlifes that beat and rob kids for the fun of it," Race growled, his grip on Oscar's wrist tightening. Oscar was shaking, fear rushing through his veins and making his heart pound in his ears. He had told himself he would kill the men who hurt Morris when he found them, but he was too afraid. He was a coward.

"They's the ones who attacked Morris?" Jack asked, his gaze fixed on the three men now as well. Oscar managed to nod, twisting his hand out of Race's grip and backing away so fast he nearly knocked over a chair. Oscar saw a few of the newsies get to their feet. The man was still giving him that chilling smile, and Oscar knew he'd been recognized. He was trembling, his eyes wide as he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. All he could think about was the knife, the blood, his brother's screams...

"Oscar, calm down! You gotta breath!" Specs said desperately. He'd gotten up from the table as he saw Oscar go into panic mode and had grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him hard and trying to get him to come back to the real world. Oscar, not really knowing what he was doing, clung to the front of Specs' shirt and began gasping for air. The other teen stopped shaking him, holding him still and trying to calm him down.

"They're gone now, Oscar. They left. It's alright," Specs soothed, squeezing Oscar's shoulders gently and resisting the urge to hug him. They weren't that close yet; Oscar wouldn't want that kind of comfort from the bespectacled boy. Oscar's breathing had slowed and become more regulated. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands, shaking his head and groaning in disbelief. He was a coward.


	8. Nothing to Be Sorry For

Specs guided Oscar back to the lodging house, saying nothing as the two of them walked through the now dimly lit streets. Instead of spending just an hour or so in the restaurant like they had planned, the newsies had stayed there until past 8 o'clock. Out of the corner of his eye, Specs saw Oscar flinch at every small sound of the streets, from a particularly loud step from either of them to the yowl of a stray animal. He was shaking everywhere, and tears had begun to slip down his cheeks. Specs' eyes softened, but he made no move to comfort Oscar. They were still enemies.

A howl of laughter ripped through the air and Oscar shrieked, jumping backwards and tripping over his feet, landing on the ground with a groan. He immediately drew his knees to his chest, shaking violently and breathing irregularly, just like he had back in Tibby's. Specs watched him helplessly, wanting to help, but having no idea how. Oscar had started to sob softly and Specs felt himself kneel beside the slightly younger boy, placing a hand on his shoulder and trying to meet his eyes.

"Oscar? Hey, don't freak out on me. Do you think you can make it to the lodging house? Do you need a minute before we keep going?" Specs said hurriedly, moving so he was in front of Oscar and had hands on both of his shoulders. Oscar kept his eyes downcast and ignored Specs, looking away from him and sniffling. He hated looking weak, especially in front of someone as sweet as Specs. It made him feel vulnerable; useless. The bespectacled boy shook his head in distraught, getting to his feet and placing his hands on his hips.

"Come on Oscar, Morris is probably wondering where you are. You don't want him to worry, do you?" Specs tried. Oscar looked up at him before hesitantly getting to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking quickly into the streets. Specs followed, keeping his distance to give the depressed teen some space. Oscar's shoulders were still shaking and Specs could hear his muffled sobs no matter how hard he tried to hide them. They reached the lodging house and Oscar immediately rushed inside, running up to Morris' bed. Specs went up to his bunk, leaving the two brothers alone to talk.

"Morris, are ya still awake?" Oscar whispered warily, cautiously sitting at the edge of Morris' bed and resting a hand on his leg. Morris side and slowly turned to his side, smiling at his younger brother. His hair was mussed and the back of his head was refusing to lie flat. "Well, I is now. How was lunch?" Morris asked, using a hushed tone so no one would wake up. His smile faded as Oscar's eyes immediately began to swim with tears and he let out a loud half-sob.

"Hey, c'mere. What's da matta?" Morris said softly, extending his arms out to Oscar in a welcoming gesture. Oscar launched himself at his older brother, knocking the wind out of him and wrapping his arms around him in such a tight hug that Morris had to bite back a cry of pain. His wounds were throbbing again, but he ignored them and returned his brother's tight embrace, rubbing his back gently and resting his chin on his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

"At Tibby's," Oscar began, sniffling, "the men that hurt cha were there. They saw me 'n they recognized me. I'se been tellin' myself I'd beat the livin' daylights outta them when I saw them, but I got so scared and I couldn't do it. I'm so sorry, Morris," Oscar finished, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the anticipated verbal attacked. Morris had stiffened, gripping the back of Oscar's shirt tightly and his breathing hitching.

"Did they hurt'cha?" Morris asked worriedly, pulling away and resting his hands on Oscar's shoulders, looking at him far any sign of injury. Oscar blinked in confusion and slowly shook his head, still waiting anxiously. Morris sighed in relief and hugged his brother once again, smiling a little when Oscar relaxed slightly in his touch.

"I'm really, really sorry. Why ain't ya mad at me, Morris? Ain't ya upset I didn't confront 'em? That I'm a... a c-c..." Oscar shuddered and his voice trailed off. Morris' eyes softened and he shook his head, chuckling and sighing in disbelief. His brother was absolutely impossible at times.

"Nah, I ain't mad, and I don't think you'se a coward, either. There's nothin' to be sorry for, Os, I'm just glad you'se safe and ya didn't get into any trouble. I don't need ya gettin' hurt too," Morris said firmly. Oscar smiled a bit in understanding and let go of Morris, settling down on the bed and making sure to leave enough room for Morris. Morris smiled and laid down next to his brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Morris murmured again before drifting off to sleep.


	9. Stay

"We can't just do nothin'! Oscar 'n Morris ain't gonna get any betta if they's afraid of getting jumped!" Racetrack hissed in reply to a rather scathing comment from Crutchie. Said younger boy glared at his superior, gripping his crutch tightly and shaking his head in disbelief at his friend's ignorant actions. Did Race forget who they were? What they had done? _For years?_

"Who cares? Morris can get beaten and raped for all I care," Crutchie said indifferently, making Specs and Race cry out in rage and Jack look at his friend with wide eyes. Crutchie looked down at his feet, a bitter smile spreading across his face as his gaze rested on his bad leg. After getting it beaten by Oscar, Morris, and Snyder while he was in the refuge, his bad leg days became his good leg days, and when he had bad days he could barely walk, but refused to be carried.

"Still, if you'se is wantin' to beat up three grown men be my guest! Don't come cryin' to me when they whip your hides and you's is half dead!" Crutchie scoffed, his tone coming out harsher than he meant for it too. Crutchie cast his eyes down in shame as Jack glared at him so ferociously he burned holes right through his soul. Specs put a hand on my shoulder and pushed Jack away slightly.

"Stop it, Jack. Crutchie's got a reason to be mad. We're basically helping the enemy," Specs pointed out quietly, and Jack's eyes softened and he nodded. "Yeah... Yeah, ya got a point. If ya don't want to do nothin' Crutchie you don't hafta, but we's is gonna take down those jerks. Oscar and Morris are kids like us, even if we hate 'em, and they's newsies, even if they work for Weisel and Snyda, and newsies stick togetha. They'll live here as long as they need, and we'll help take down the men," Jack said firmly, and Crutchie found himself nodding in agreement.

"Good point," Crutchie whispered, blinking as he felt involuntary tears gathering in his eyes. He rubbed his gimp leg to distract himself, focusing on the slight soothing sensation. Racetrack still looked unconvinced that Crutchie was on board, but he said nothing, turning away to go into Oscar and Morris' room. The two brothers were sitting side by side, Morris wrapping an arm around Oscar and whispering to him as he trembled. The two boys looked up with defeated eyes as Race entered.

"Well, I's got good news 'n bad news," Race said, and he watched the little bit of hope dim from the brothers' eyes. "Bad news is, Crutchie ain't entirely on board, he still hates ya, and so do most of the boys here," Race began. Oscar buried his head in his hands an Morris pulled him closer, grimacing.

"And the good news is?" Morris asked hoarsely, thinking that there really wasn't any for them. Race grinned widely and laughed. "You's can stay! Jack said we could help ya out since you's technically newsies, and we's gonna make sure the men that hurt'cha don't come near ya ever again!" Race felt a lump form in his throat as Morris threw his arms around Oscar's shoulder, grinning like a mad man as Oscar laughed, hugged him back, and fought back tears.

"Th-Thank you! God, I was scared you was goin' to leave us on the streets," Oscar stammered with a relieved smile. Race nodded and gave him a watery grin, swallowing hard and clasping his hands together, completely at a loss for words. Oscar continued nervously, "I mean, ya don't really got a reason to let us stay, but it's real nice and all. We wasn't expectin' it, that's fo sure." Morris laughed nervously and rubbed Oscar's back as a sign to tell him to shut up.

"We won't be a burden or nothin'. Specs says I'm probably well enough to sell papes again, so I's startin' tomorrow," Morris said confidently. Race considered the boy with a concerned gaze, noting how he was still hunched with pain, pale, and clearly not in good condition. Specs was just as blind with his glasses on as he was without them. But Race found himself giving the Delanceys a nod and a watery smile before quickly leaving the room. He had a bone to pick with a certain bespectacled boy.


	10. Fired

Oscar could see the look of absolute relief on Morris' face as the two of them entered the newspaper distribution center, and he couldn't help but smile. He knew Morris hated doing nothing. Racetrack and Specs walked on either side of them as they went up to Wiesel; they hadn't taken no for an answer when they told Oscar and Morris they'd be accompanying them that morning. Morris' smile faded a but and he gripped Oscar's hand tightly as Wiesel stared at the two brothers with narrowed eyes, swallowing back the lump in his throat and putting on a brave face.

"Where have to two been, hmm? Ya haven't come in for two days!" Wiesel barked. Morris flinched slightly, but Oscar remained firm, glaring at Wiesel with hard eyes. "That's none of ya business, sir. Personal issues. Now do ya want us ta work or not?" Oscar hissed. Wiesel let out a raspy laugh and shook his head, waving his hands in a shooing motion at the two boys and smirking when their eyes widened with fear. Race and Specs exchanged an uneasy glance and started to walk away; this wasn't their fight.

"What? You don' show up for work, 'n you expect me to keep you on? You must be crazy! Now beat it, before I get the police and have ya thrown in the refuge!" Wiesel said, his voice scathing. Morris was frozen, his eyes wide with fear, and he couldn't get his legs to move no matter how much he wanted to. Oscar tried to tug on his arm, and even Specs grabbed the back of his shirt and tried to drag him. Morris wouldn't move. He could feel his body beginning to tremble as Wiesel came out from behind the gate, but his brain wouldn't actually process his fear. He was confused, even a little blank minded, and he only too a step backwards when Wiesel pulled his familiar baton off of his belt, waving it at the older Delancey threateningly.

"I said beat it, ya worthless lump!" Wiesel roared for all to hear, his baton swinging and hitting the side of his head with a loud _crack._ Morris cried out and scrambled away, his limbs regaining feeling, and clutched his head. Memories of knives and grubby hands hitting him and his clothes being ripped from him flashed in his mind and he screamed, sprinting as fast as he could towards the gate. Oscar yelled something at him but he couldn't hear him. Everything was blurry and he stumbled about as he ran out of the distribution center, shoving past newsies that were entering it and trying not to fall. He could feel blood on the side of his head and he collapsed to his knees with a sob at the side of the road, clutching his bleeding brow and breathing heavily, trying not to faint. God only knows what would happen if he closed his eyes for even a moment.

"MORRIS!" Morris' head whipped around at the sound of his brother's scream of his name, and he saw him running towards him, Racetrack and Specs at his heels. Morris whimpered and his vision began to swim with tears. Oscar was mad at him, he could tell by the look on his face. He was the older one, he was supposed to be strong. He should have demanded that Wiesel let the two of them keep their job, not run away because of one little hit and a few harsh memories, including the ones from two days ago... and farther back... Morris shuddered and buried his head in his hands, his body shivering as if he had been struck by a sudden cold.

"Morris! Morris, what's the matta with you?!" Oscar shrieked, shaking his brother. He had been for the past minute or so, but Morris just stared at the ground, shivering and clutching his bleeding head. To say Oscar was panicking was an understatement. He had never been so afraid in his life. Wiesel's blow to Morris' head hadn't been light whatsoever, it was bleeding so much, and his eyes were glazed over as he stared blankly at nothing. Oscar tried not to cry; he couldn't cry in front of Specs and Race. So, he kept shaking his brother and calling his name until he looked up at him with a dazed expression, his eyes swimming as well.

"We don't have a job..." was the first thing Morris said, whispering. His brow furrowed in confusion and a single tear slipped down his cheek. Oscar swallowed and bit his lip, nodding in response to his brother's statement. "No... No we don't. But we'll find somethin', a'ight? We'll work it out, right?" Oscar said in a hushed tone. Morris nodded.

"Yeah... Yeah, we'll figure it out..."


	11. Father?

A/N 1: Sorry for the long wait! I had some discouraging words from a lot of people that made me hesitant to continue this, but I've gained back my interest and confidence for this story! Thank you all for your comments 3 THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE

Jack had to carry Morris back to the lodging house; in his panicked frenzy he'd forgotten about his stitches and almost ripped a few, causing for him to go into immense pain. Oscar stuck close to the two boys' side, but the rest of the newsies went off to continue their day's work and sell newspapers. Morris clung to Jack in humiliation as guilt knawed at his stomach. He could hear people snickering at them as they passed and he shrank back. Morris Jensen Delancey, the biggest baddie of New York City, was nothing more than a weak little boy that had to be carried in these people's eyes. Oscar never hesitated once with his scathing looks and sneers, but that stopped no one. Morris could even see that Jack was trying not to laugh, even as a small patch of blood soaked through onto his shirt. When they finally reach the newsies' lodge, Morris was so relieved he would have run upstairs himself if he hadn't been so weak.

"You twos can stay at da lodgin' house, for now, the rest of us will be back aroun' noon," Jack said as he settled Morris back into his bed with the help of Oscar. The other boy could only give him a silent nod, his face pale from pain and embarrassment. Jack nodded back and began to leave before Oscar stopped him.

"Hey Jack... thanks for everythin', we appreciate it. Nows that we don't got a job, though, you don't hafta keep us here. We can leave," Oscar said. Jack raised an eyebrow and turned right back around, folding his arms across his chest. Oscar and Morris both looked at him, Oscar looking more uneasy whereas Morris looked sadly defeated.

"Yous been talkin' bout this, haven't ya?" Jack asked with a sigh, rubbing his face and shaking his head in disbelief. "We can talk about it when da boys get back, but I ain't lettin' you go no where when Morris is like that. He wouldn't last a day on the streets," the newsboy pointed out. Oscar glanced at his brother sheepishly and shrugged, almost as if to say, 'Well, I tried, sorry'. Morris gave him a quick reassuring smile and addressed Jack directly for the first time since they'd arrived.

"Yous a good man, Jack Kelly. Now get along, da boys are probably wonderin' where ya ran off to," Morris said, joking a bit with the head newsies. Jack chuckled and nodded curtly before leaving the two brothers to themselves, closing the door behind him. Immediately, Morris' smile wiped away and his expression became stony. "We ain't stayin', Os. We can't." The younger Delancey brother looked down and nodded, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat.

"Where should we go?" Oscar asked, sitting down by Morris' bed. The older brother looked down at his hands for a moment before looking back up at the other, his expression almost unreadable. Unreadable, that is, to anyone but Oscar. Oscar paled and slumped back in his chair, his mouth going dry. He knew that look. He'd seen it before at least a dozen times. "Mo, I don't wanna go there... we don't gotta... we could just stay," he said weakly, his voice strained. Morris shook his head.

"We got no otha choice, Oscar. Dad's our only shot. And who knows, time can change ya. He might be better," Morris said, giving his brother the best smile that he could, knowing what he was saying was complete and utter horseshit, but they truly did have no other choice. Oscar leaned forward, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on them, staring blankly ahead. The two brothers sat in silence as Morris allowed Oscar to mull over it. They would only be a burden here, but Morris didn't want to do anything that Oscar didn't want to do. Oscar shifted his gaze to Morris, his eyes fearful.

"Promise you won't let 'im hit me?" Oscar whispered, his hands shaking a little and his knuckles white. Morris took one of his hands and squeezed it.

"Promise. We'll look out for each otha. I ain't sayin' we gotta stay there all the time...we just needs a place to sleep...alright?" Morris said quietly. Oscar closed his eyes and took a shaky breath before nodding.

"Alright. Let's go."

A/N 2: I'm thinking about doing a ship later in the story between a newsie and one of the Delancey brothers. Pick one of the newsies below and which brother you want them to be with. Don't worry, no matter which one you pick there will be development. And it won't be central to the plot but still very much there.

Race w/Oscar or Morris  
Specs w/ Oscar or Morris  
Crutchie w/ Oscar or Morris


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